


The Intruder

by gizkas



Category: Original Work
Genre: Urban Fantasy, for the prompt: a girl and her shadow walk into a bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gizkas/pseuds/gizkas
Summary: He finds her next on the roof, where her spray cans paint neon streaks across billboards, reds and blues on sirens.“You’re following me,” she says behind her mask, eyes crinkling with a smile.“Only because you wake me up,” he grumbles uncomfortably in return.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt: a girl and her shadow walk into a bar

 

> [ignitesthestars](http://ignitesthestars.tumblr.com/) answered: a girl and her shadow walk into a bar

**  
** There is an Intruder. It starts with **  
**

_Pscht. Pschhht._  
And then: _Tunkatunka_

The next thing he notices is that there’s the smell of fumes, the distant noise of sneakers running quickly across pavement. He doesn’t understand why he’s awake, but he knows with absolute certainty that it’s the Intruder’s fault.

As a rule, he can’t move very far by himself. So he keeps his distance and glares at the figure across the city street.

_Pscht. Pschhht._

_Tunkatunka._

She crouches next to a shop window, her hands stained with a low glow. The knees of her jeans imbued with luminescence. There’s a bandana tied around the lower half of her face and a spray can in her grip.

 _Pscht_.

A speck of light emerges from the can.

 _Pschhht_.

And spreads to flood the window. The formerly unbroken darkness splits apart and in its wreckage he sees a lamp, a television screen, a monitor.

He gasps.

The Intruder turns her head to look over her shoulder at the noise. He presses himself tighter against the wall.

There’s a hesitant _tunkatunka_ as she shakes the can again before turning back to her work. He winces as she paints the next window: a ceiling fan, a nightlight.

He does his best to fold himself away from this unknown threat by sinking into the cracks of cement, the backs of dumpsters. He must be a good enough job, he thinks, because the Intruder does not seem to notice he is there at all.

Instead she aims the nozzle up at the sky, and he is trying to understand what good light will do _there_ when another invites themselves into his territory:

“Stop!” Calls the Dark, from somewhere unknown.

The Intruder scrambles to collect her spray cans and stencils, her guides and tarp. He does not hear _Pscht_ or _tunkatunka_ , but there is the sound of sneakers on the pavement.

He waits until he is certain she is gone, and then allows himself to relax-

-until she barrels into him. Her chest presses against his chest, she pulls at his arms to wrap around her shoulders. She cowers into him, her face buried in the crook of his neck.

He’s stock-still, unsure of what to do. “What are you-?”

“Just stay here,” the Intruder whispers into him, “Until the Dark passes.”

He is mildly offended. “Are you _using_ me?”

“Only to hide.”

Hiding, he admits to himself with mild irritation, is something of an expertise. So he lets her cling to him only a little begrudgingly.

Soon enough, the Dark passes. And she hugs him goodbye before there’s once again the sound of sneakers on the pavement.

 

* * *

 

 

\--

After a few hours pass, he is brave enough to toe the edge of the cut between the Dark and the Intruder’s art--a fine and difficult balance.

\--

He is woken up by her again. This time he watches as she runs happily down the road, short puffs of spray emitting from the can and floating up. They catch on the tops of street lamps, making a chain that follows her as she gradually disappears from view.

He stares at the path she leaves in her wake. At the windows. He does not know what to do with what she’s left behind.

\--

He eyes the chain with skepticism. He does not trust these lights or the Intruder who brings them.

The first night, the globes don’t move from their perches.

The second night, they don’t attack him.

The third night, he is curious, and as he inches closer he realizes that just maybe they aren’t here to hurt him.

\--

The fourth night he decides he wants to run happily, too.

He follows the chain from spot to spot, always a little bit behind the trail she leaves for him.

\--

He finds her next on the roof, where her spray cans paint neon streaks across billboards, reds and blues on sirens.

“You’re following me,” she says behind her mask, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Only because you wake me up,” he grumbles uncomfortably in return.

 _Tunkatunka_.

He tries not to smile.

\--

It becomes a game.

She leaves hints for him on skyscrapers. Walkways for him on screens. She runs down trains and he chases after her; slides across powerlines and he tries to keep up.

The city that has always belonged to Dark is now their playground instead.

\--

“Are you lonely?” She asks.

 _Pscht_. Red.  
_Pscht_. Yellow.  
_Psssscht_. Green.

He doesn’t know how to answer that, because it’s never occurred to him to have that concern.

“There’s the Dark,” he offers, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That keeps to itself,” she pouts, nose crinkling.

Uncomfortable because now he knows he’s been alone, he slides beneath the stoop, curls behind the benches. She sees his retreat and jerks out of her kneel, offering a glowing hand.

“You don’t have to be anymore.”

He stares at the hand offered to him with wariness.

“You Intruded,” he mumbles.

“Intrusions don’t wait for invitations,” she promises.

He pauses, thinking that over. And after a moment he moves his hand under hers.

\--

“This is how we stay together,” she tells him, as she shakes her can ( _tunkatunka_ ) and aims it at the sky.

He cowers down, folding his arms protectively over his head.

 _Pscht_.

 _Pssscht_.

“It’s okay,” she promises.

He looks up. His eyes widen as he takes in her newest painting. The wide expanse of it across the sky.

“What are these?” He breathes, feeling safe and constant.

She rests her cheek on his shoulder. “I call them stars.”

“Where do they go?”

“Wherever we want them to.” Her hand hovers over his.

He swallows, heart pounding. “Can’t they stay, then?”

She kisses his cheek. “Yes. But they’re going to need both of us to exist.” The intruder tilts her head. “Will you help me watch them?”

“Yes.”

And Shadow stayed beside Light for the rest of the night.


End file.
